


The Roommates - Chapter 2

by JD_Sira



Category: Harley Quinn (Comics), Poison Ivy (Comics), Suicide Squad (2016), Suicide Squad (Comics)
Genre: Breathplay, Choking, F/M, Face-Sitting, Femdom, Force Choking, Non-Consensual Violence, Out of Character, Passout, facesit, headscissor, headscissors, knockout - Freeform, ko, smother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 19:39:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8813668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JD_Sira/pseuds/JD_Sira
Summary: Jerome's troubles with his roommates continue ... and get worse





	

Jerome was very confused. He felt as if he was waking from a deep sleep, only very slowly. The world was barely crawling back into focus, his thoughts were unusually addled, and to top things off he did not remember deciding to go to sleep. And my goodness he must have slept funny because his neck and jaw were killing him! Before he had a moment to try to sort all these strange sensations out, he heard a voice …

“I think he’s coming back to us.”

“Well, don’t let him get comfortable.”

Wait what? Jerome thought to himself. 

Oh no! Jerome remembered why he had been “asleep” just in time to feel a muscular leg come crashing down on the side of his face. His head was not on a pillow, but on one of his roommate’s legs (he hadn’t had time to sort out which one yet), and the other one had apparently just been hovering in the air, waiting to crash down on him when he regained consciousness. And crash it did; the descending leg hit his face like a solid punch, only it covered a much larger area. Instead of getting clocked in the lip, Jerome felt like he had taken a punch along his entire neck and jaw!

“Ugh!” Jerome grunted, but before he could manage anything more than that, a hand grabbed the back of his head and shoved it so hard in between his roommate’s legs that his entire face was stuffed into her ass, and he felt the legs around his face and neck begin to squeeze, bearing down on the sides of his neck like a vice.

“Mmhmgmph!” Jerome tried to say something, but between the pressure on his neck and jaw and his face still being pressed into his roommate’s ass he managed nothing even closing in on articulate.

“Let his face out,” Jerome heard Harley say. “I want to hear him. I want to hear him beg.”

Jerome felt the hand on the back of his head let go, and he realized that the reason it had so much force behind it was because Harley had been scissoring him while Pamela put her weight into shoving Jerome’s face into Harley’s ass. Jerome immediately pulled his head out of Harley’s ass, but begging was not the first order of business; the first order of business was oxygen. Jerome tried desperately to inhale, resulting in a gasp that sounded more like a wheeze.

He needed Harley to let him breathe. He desperately needed her legs to stop squeezing so hard! As panic started to set back in alongside the pain, he reached his hand up to grab her legs and pull them apart, even if just for a split second, so he could grab a part of a breath … or at least he tried to. All that actually resulted was a strange convulsion involving his arms and shoulders; his hands were still cuffed behind his back, just as he had requested at the beginning of this so that he wouldn’t be able to escape even if he wanted to. He had not anticipated wanting to escape this badly.

Jerome had been conscious for all of maybe ten seconds, but he could already sense his control over his body diminishing and his vision closing in again. They were going to knock him out again! Or so he thought …

“Whoa, whoa,” Pamela said. “Ease up a bit, honey, or we’re going to lose him again!”

“Oops!”

Jerome felt Harley’s legs relax, though they retained a firm grasp on his neck. Nevertheless, he was finally able to breathe, and breathe he did! Jerome sucked in air in huge volumes, gasping like a man who had just sprinted a couple hundred yards. Harley and Pamela just laughed at him. As his senses returned to him, he felt a massive headache come crashing down on him, pounding at the space between his ears.

“Ohhhhhh,” Jerome moaned. “My head. Let go. I don’t like this. My head really hurts.”

“Awwwwww,” Harley mocked. “Is it because of the pressure.” On the word “pressure” Harley squeezed again. Having drawn a few breaths, Jerome was no longer in a panicked scramble to breathe, but having his senses fully restored and a newfound monster headache made the pain even worse than before! He was conscious enough to feel his already sore jaw get crushed and shoved out of position yet again, and the pressure that previously made his eyes feel like they would pop out of his head now had the additional effect of turning a splitting headache into something more like a migraine.

“Owwwwwww! YES! Yes it’s the pressure!! Pweesh!!”

Harley laughed at his wails and eased up again.

“Harleen, you don’t understand! I’m not joking! This hurts so bad. It hurts really bad! I think I’m getting a migraine, and my jaw hurts so much, and it feels like I’m drowning. I wanna stop. I really wanna stop.”

Harley looked down her back at Jerome’s face, still held between her legs, but the cruel smile had disappeared and been replaced by a look of concern. “Oh, Jerome,” she said apologetically, and Jerome began to feel relief wash over him. “We know. We can hear your screams.”

Wait what? Jerome thought, feeling relief turn into confusion. Harley didn’t give him time for confusion to turn into anything else. She just kicked her legs out straight once more, thrusting her hips forward and crushing Jerome between her legs again. Jerome let out a yowl as the pressure made his head feel like it was going to explode. It felt like his brain was molten lava, burning inside his head and pressing to burst forth in a gory volcano.

“Ow! My head! My head!” Jerome yelled involuntarily.

“Oh, don’t worry, honey, I can make that worse.” Harley said. And then she began to pulse her legs quickly and rhythmically. Impossibly, that did make it worse. The lava on the inside of Jerome’s head was now being pumped, and with each new squeeze it felt closer to cracking Jerome’s skull and finding the escape it so desperately needed to burst into the outside world.

“ahAHahAHahAHahAH!” Jerome screamed, the timber of his scream changing involuntarily with each squeeze and release.

Pamela started laughing hysterically. “Oh god! Oh god stop! I’m laughing so hard … I can’t breathe!”

Harley did not stop. Jerome’s screams rapidly morphed into moaning whimpers. As hopelessness began to set in, alongside the return of oxygen deprivation, Jerome’s thrashing began to slow. Suddenly and finally, Harley let him go and slipped her leg out from under him in one quick motion, letting Jerome’s head thud to the carpet. Jerome lay there, not sure what was happening, and not bothering to say anything. He just took the moment, which he didn’t figure would last long, to breathe and appreciate the fact that, for however briefly, he now “only” had a splitting headache. 

A moment later Jerome wished he had at least put a little effort into some awareness of his surroundings. Harley and Pamela apparently had no need to communicate; this was understood to be merely a trade in positions. Jerome learned this when he felt Pamela’s hand grab his face – yes, grab his face. Jerome was lying on his right side, and Pamela’s hand had come from behind him, her palm almost slamming itself into his face right over his nose and mouth, causing Jerome to grunt in pain. Her fingers gripped the side of his face hard, her nails digging into his skin painfully, and Pamela literally just yanked Jerome’s face toward his left shoulder.

Jerome’s neck whipped to the side in what would have been a painful motion even under ordinary circumstances. As it was, Jerome’s neck was already ridiculously sore, so the sudden and extreme motion was excruciating. Jerome let out a yelp as his entire body rotated to follow his head, though not fast enough to really alleviate any of the pain; just fast enough to avoid injury, as biology would insist.

“Oh! Now that’s mean!” He heard Harley laugh. He could no longer see Harley, as he was now on his back, with Harley to his right out of sight, and his head facing left towards Pamela, who had just done her best to give him whiplash.

“Psh.” Pamela said. “That’s child’s play. Watch this. Watch what Imma do to his neck!”

“Pamela NO! Please don’t! I beg you please I beg you don’t no please no please god no,” Jerome’s begging just became a run-on sentence, devoid of all punctuation; nothing more than a frantic attempt to achieve as much beseeching in as little time as possible in the desperate hope that something would convince Pamela not to execute whatever torturous idea she had in mind. It was all completely futile. Pamela just stared at him coldly, her eyes devoid of even a hint of sympathy. Slowly, purposefully, even somewhat tauntingly, she grabbed a firm hold of the back of his head, and pulled his neck up into her crotch.

“Pleasenodontpleasestoppleaseno …” Jerome begged as his neck was placed firmly in the V between her legs.

Pamela just stared down at him, calmly curling her right leg behind Jerome’s head, pushing his neck up hard against her crotch. As the pressure built on his windpipe, Jerome’s frantic begging was interrupted by involuntary gagging. What Jerome didn’t know was that this fit of gagging wasn’t the half of it. In one smooth motion, Pamela bent her left leg around her right ankle and, still holding onto her right foot for extra leverage, threw all the strength of her left leg into pulling her right leg tighter around Jerome’s neck. At the same time, she arched her back and thrust her hips forward.

The pressure turned Jerome’s gagging into exaggerated choking. His neck was now pressed hard into her crotch, and Jerome felt like his windpipe had to be virtually flattened. Driven by the raw instinct of fear, Jerome’s diaphragm pulled hard to try to draw in a breath. But Pamela’s hold on him made that impossible, so instead all Jerome did was choke, which, unfortunately, involved involuntary attempts to inhale, which just made the choking worse. Jerome went into complete panic mode, thrashing about violently. His feet kicked up against a piece of furniture painfully, but the pain that would normally have drawn profanities was far from a pressing concern in his current state, and his thrashing continued through the impact without interruption. Unfortunately, the thrashing did literally nothing to lessen the pressure or compromise Pamela’s hold.

Pamela just stared down at Jerome’s face like it was some sort of science experiment. Her eyes occasionally roamed his face, coolly taking in all its variable contortions, but mostly her eyes remained locked on his. The most frightening thing to Jerome was that she wasn’t even coldly non-expressive; she was worse. She looked … curious, after a few seconds even cocking her head to the side, as if she was trying to figure out why an ant was putting so much effort into dragging a little stick around.

A moment later Jerome realized her attentiveness served a purpose other than satisfying her cruel fascination. As he felt himself start slipping towards unconsciousness and his vision grew unfocused, Pamela relaxed her back, loosening her grip just slightly so that Jerome could draw in the air he needed to stay conscious. With measured cruelty, Pamela let Jerome have only a couple wheezing breaths before once again arching her back and crushing Jerome’s windpipe into her crotch.

Jerome was in Hell. His headache was excruciating, he was in a constant state of panic because he could not breathe, his jaw was throbbing, his throat was growing hoarse from a combination of choking, gagging, and screaming, his stomach was beginning to hurt from all its involuntary convulsions as he tried to breathe, and his neck was on fire! As Pamela had promised, her new hold was severely contorting his neck. He was lying on his back, but of course his face was turned left toward Pamela. Pamela’s hold, however, pressed his head backward, bending his turned head backwards toward his right shoulder. It was excruciating.

“I like watching you cry,” Pamela said softly, in a voice that was strangely serene, almost kind … cruelly kind. Jerome didn’t even realized he had started crying again, but in that moment realized that he was shamelessly weeping.

“I like watching you squirm,” he heard Harley say.

Pamela relaxed once again, letting him draw a couple agonizing breaths so he would not go unconscious. At this point Jerome may have chosen to just go unconscious, but he did not have that choice; by the time Pamela relaxed her squeeze, instinct overrode any conscious volitions Jerome managed to form and he gasped in the few breaths he was allowed that would preserve his consciousness. After a couple breaths, Pamela arched her back again, ruthlessly crushing his windpipe and bending his neck backwards at that awful angle. In a rare moment of common-sense, Jerome rolled onto his left side to ease some of the stress to his neck.

“Don’t let him do that,” Pamela instructed.

“Why? It doesn’t look like it lessens your grip.”

“No, but it’s more comfortable for him. See how he’s less contorted?”

“Oh!” Harley said. Then, in a display of cruelty that somehow, even in the midst of this night, caught Jerome off guard, Harley drove the heel of her foot into the front of Jerome’s right shoulder where his arm met his chest, slamming Jerome painfully back onto his back. Jerome tried to yelp, but he was still doing nothing more than choking, and managed to do nothing more than sputter a little more. Harley held her foot on his shoulder, grinding her heel into the joint to make sure he didn’t try to roll over again. While Jerome’s shoulder was throbbing pretty badly, his neck was hurting more, and he was beginning to worry about long-term damage. In desperation, he tried to mouth a message to Pamela, moving his lips to form the words “my neck” even though he could not say them.

“Oh – I see what’s bothering him so much,” Pamela said with a smile. “It’s your neck? Is that what you’re mouthing at me?”

Jerome managed to twitch a nod, glad that he had at least managed to communicate to her that he felt the integrity of his neck was threatened. However much fun she might be having choking him, Jerome was sure she did not want to hurt his neck.

“It’s bent pretty funny, isn’t it?” Pamela asked. Jerome managed a small hope again that at least a little something about his current situation might improve. “Harley, really dig that foot in, I need him not to be able to move much right now.”

“Ok.” Harley said, leaning in and putting her weight on her heal, driving it so painfully down into the connective tissue that Jerome, in spite of the pain in his neck, actually involuntarily pulled to his right. Of course, with the floor underneath him, the pull alleviated none of the pain in his shoulder because he could not actually rotate it away from Harley’s ankle. So all that happened was his neck hurt even more. It didn’t matter – Jerome wasn’t making any of the movements consciously, so they didn’t need to make any sense.

“Perfect,” Pamela said. “Now hold that.”

Pamela stared deep into Jerome’s eyes as a cold smile played at the sides of her mouth. She glanced quickly up at Harley, and said, “watch this,” and then back down to Jerome, and said “brace yourself.”

Jerome was still choking, so he could not say anything, but he was pretty sure his eyes somehow got even wider. He had no idea what could be coming, but he knew it was not good. Pamela rotated her body counterclockwise a bit, slightly adjusting her position relative to Jerome, and then she pushed forward even harder with her hips. Jerome learned in that moment how bad his situation was, as he felt his head push slowly further back towards his right shoulder. Knowing instinctively how vulnerable he was, he tried hard to push back, to fight Pamela’s adjustment. Of course, that was completely futile – Jerome’s awkwardly positioned neck could not hope to have the slightest impact on the powerful thrust of Pamela’s hips as she bore down on him. So Jerome did all that he was allowed to do: he kicked his feet in agony, choked in desperate attempts to suck in air, cried tears of pain and hopelessness, and stared beseechingly into Pamela’s eyes.

“Wow … that looks like it hurts,” Harley said.

“Oh it does,” Pamela reassured her. “Look into his eyes. Here bend over a bit so you can see his face.”

As Harley bent forward, near to all her weight fell on her right heel as it pressed into his shoulder, causing Jerome even more pain. Pamela, for her part, pushed Jerome’s head even further back so that Harley could see his face more easily. Jerome could feel the flesh of his neck being pushed to its limit. As Harley’s face entered his field of vision, Jerome shifted his gaze towards her, hoping against hope that he might find some understanding there; some understanding that this had to stop. It just had to. Harley’s reaction was different from Pamela’s, but not in the way he hoped.

“Oh my god he’s bawling!” Harley exclaimed gleefully. “Oh my god look at him! Look at his eyes! Look at the color of his face! Look at his neck! Oh my god!”

Pamela looked up at her and flashed a playful smile. “I could totally break his neck right now.” She looked back down at Jerome. The smile remained, but all playfulness was gone, replaced by a dangerous twinkle. “I could break your neck right now, Jerome,” she whispered softly.

“Beg me not to break your neck, Jerome,” Pamela commanded. Jerome, of course, could only choke and gag. 

“I don’t hear any begging. Harley, do you hear any begging?”

“No, no I don’t, Pamela. Maybe he thinks you’re joking?”

“Do you think I’m joking, Jerome?” Pamela asked, pushing just a tiny bit harder with her hips, stretching Jerome’s neck just a tiny bit further out of position. Jerome tried with everything he had to shake his head no, but he couldn’t. He had no control over his head at all, at this point – it was frozen in place as every instinct told him not to move his head to avoid breaking his neck.

“Jerome,” Pamela said in a barely audible whisper. “Jerome, if I were you, I would start begging right now. Like right now. Jerome I want you to beg me.” She arched her back just a little extra, speaking slowly to let the terror linger. “Beg me. Beg me not to break you. A small thrust of my hips-” and she twitched her hips for emphasis “and things go snap. Beg me not to break you. We’re not going to call an ambulance for you, Jerome. In fact, it would just make scissoring you that much easier. Beg me to spare you, Jerome. I want to find out what the first thing to break will be – what will tear first? Muscle? Tendons?” She arched her back another tiny bit more, her voice still a soft, sensual whisper. “Beg me not to find out. Beg me, Jerome.”

Jerome wanted to beg her. He had never wanted anything in his life as badly as he wanted to beg Pamela in that moment. Every fiber of his being wanted to commit itself to begging Pamela, to obeying Pamela, to doing whatever she wanted. But he couldn’t – it was a physical impossibility. So he stared at Pamela and cried; cried like he had never cried before – cried in pain and terror and anguish.

“I’m not hearing him beg, Harley, are you?”

“No. How odd.”

“Fortunately for him, I am a merciful person. Look at his eyes, Harley. Do you see how they beseech me? Do you think I should let that count?”

“Eh – I’d just break him. But you’re nicer than me, and it’s your call.”

“How about a compromise? Jerome, I think you may be begging me with your eyes, but Harley thinks I should just break you because you failed to obey me. So here is what I am going to do. In a moment, I will loosen my grip slightly for three seconds. If you do not beg me not to break your neck, as I have requested, I will be forced to agree with Harley. Do you understand?”

Jerome understood, but he couldn’t respond. He lay stock still in a state of utter and complete panic. His vision had started fading again and he was still choking and gagging compulsively to try to get some air. Somehow, in just three seconds, he would have to find a way to stop choking, gather his wits, pull in enough air to speak, and produce sounds that could somehow be construed as begging.

Just then he felt Pamela’s legs relax slightly, and he knew it was now or never – this was it; his last chance. He gave it his all, pulling in a huge breath in a desperate attempt to get past the fit of coughing that threatened to descend upon him and ruin any chance to speak. He coughed anyway, losing precious air and precious moments.

“One.” Pamela started to count. The moments seem to stretch forever now. He could feel his diaphragm and throat spasming in attempts to cough, as instinct demanded, and he worked with everything he had to quash that instinct. He put every bit of willpower he had into ignoring his burning lungs and using the little bit of air he had gathered to produce the sounds that would, literally, save his neck.

“Two.”

Jerome felt Pamela’s body tense slightly, ready to snap into position and fulfill her promise. It was, in every sense of the idiom, now or never.

“PLUHEAughcughhuaEEASE!” Jerome managed to get out. It was something approaching the word please, but with a fit of gagging in the middle. It was the best he could do, and he hoped it would be enough.

“That’s a good boy, Jerome. That’s a good boy.” Pamela said.

“Pleeeaaaaassseeeee!” Jerome wailed as he regained just a tiny bit of composure and managed to convert his panic into a wailing plea for mercy. “I-” cough, gag “beg you! Please!” Gasp! “I BEG you. Please don’t. Please don’t break me. Please! Pamela, please … please.”

Pamela smiled softly at him. “That’s better. See Harley? I told you so. And you would have had me snap his poor little neck! He wouldn’t have deserved that. He can be a good slave, can’t you Jerome?”

“Yes, yes Pamela. Whatever you want,” Jerome heard himself say without even thinking.

“Good,” Pamela said. “Ok – well I need to grab a quick drink of water. Shall we break for a moment, Harley?”

“Sure! I think we’re making good progress, we can catch a quick breather!”

“Excellent.”

Jerome closed his eyes and relief washed over him. For just a brief moment he thought they would leave him be, even if it was just so that he could lie on the floor, draw in a few breaths, and wallow in the pain radiating all over his upper body. Jerome should have known better. With explosive strength and merciless ferocity, Pamela arched her back and thrust her hips forward, once again crushing Jerome’s windpipe and whipping his neck back into a painful contortion. Caught by surprise, Jerome tried to scream, but of course that couldn’t happen, so he just choked … again. With the renewed vigor of a man who had been allowed to draw a few deep breaths, Jerome kicked his feet and squirmed as best as he could manage with Harley’s heel still pinning one of his shoulders painfully on the ground. With desperate, pained, confused eyes he stared up at Pamela, silently asking why. Why were they not taking a break, as they had discussed?

“Oh honey,” Pamela said with mock sympathy and barely concealed amusement. “Oh honey, you didn’t think you also got to take a break? Oh, no. No sweetie, that’s not how this works. No you aren’t going to get any breaks tonight, Jerome.”

Jerome returned to the state he had been in most of that night – he writhed, he choked, he cried, and he looked beggingly into Pamela’s eyes, entering silent but futile pleas for mercy with the merciless Pamela. With the little bit of determination left in him from his recent exposure to oxygen, Jerome tried to force out a verbal beg, hoping that his efforts and begging might please Pamela enough to show some mercy. All that made him do was gag harder. Pamela did notice, though …

“Shhhhhhhhh,” she cooed softly. “Shhhhhh. It will all be over soon … well sort of. I mean, the next thing you are aware of will be our legs crushing you again. But what I mean is, this particular moment will be over soon. Shhhhh.”

Jerome felt his vision begin to darken around the edges, and his vision started swimming, and then the entire world started to waver as everything grew darker and darker. Jerome knew there was nothing he could do but wait. His lungs burned for air, and his head throbbed, angrily demanding that whatever was happening be stopped. But Jerome couldn’t stop it. In a cruel twist of fate, the last thing Jerome was aware of as he slid for the second time that night into unconsciousness was the pain. His vision went black, he couldn’t remember exactly where he was or feel what position his body was in, but the pain throbbed. His shoulder hurt, his chest hurt, his neck was sore, and his jaw felt like it would never move again. Everything hurt. And then his world, for all intents and purposes, momentarily ended, and the pain finally went away as Jerome sank into the merciful grip of unconsciousness.


End file.
